She enjoys the unwavering support of sponsors such as Trangoworld, the French ski resort Saint-Lary, mountain services company Altiservice, Laboratoires le Stum, and, unsurprisingly, the Huesca Provincial Council.
Want to get to know Cecilia better?
Yumping.- A certified instructor in rock climbing and canyoning, with the great fortune of making a living from what you love most: climbing. Was it difficult to get where you are?
Cecilia Buil.- It’s been a lifelong journey, really, so it’s taken years of dedication. But I wasn’t aiming for that—I just wanted to live for the mountains, though not necessarily climbing. Over time, my path led me here.
Y.- In 1996, you prepared your first ascent of El Capitan in Yosemite, which is back in the spotlight due to the recent conquest of the Dawn
C.B.- Wall by Americans Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson. What was that experience like?
The first time I climbed it, I had little idea what a big wall was. I’d done rock climbing, had experience with long routes... but not sleeping on a wall!
It was a huge adventure—it took longer than expected, we got caught in a storm, ran out of food... The funniest part? We reached the summit on my birthday, so it was very special.
Y.- There aren’t many women in this profession, though the numbers are slowly growing. What was it like starting out in a "men’s sport"?
C.B.- Well... surrounded by men! (laughs) I don’t feel uncomfortable around guys because I’m the only sister among four brothers and the only female cousin in a big family.
I never felt out of place, but I understand it can be intimidating for many girls starting out. Later on, you don’t notice discrimination, as can happen in other male-dominated sports.
I also started because of a brother who climbed and had no issue taking me along. It could be off-putting, but it also helps—and it helped me a lot.
Y.- When did you realise the mountains were your calling?
C.B.- Around 17-18 years old. I just felt so at ease, happy, fulfilled—it was where I belonged.
Y.- You’ve climbed walls like El Gigante in Mexico, spending up to 15 days suspended. What’s it like sleeping at such dizzying heights?
C.B.- You sleep well because you’re exhausted (laughs). You’re on the rock 24/7, always busy... so at night, you crash. The hammock is small but comfy, and I sleep perfectly. You don’t see the void—it’s isolating, and by day’s end, you’re desperate to rest (laughs).
I don’t remember being scared the first time, though we struggled to set up the hammock—it got dark, took us 2 hours... a disaster! But I remember the thrill waking up the next morning: I loved it. So much so that after 4 nights, I wanted more. El Capitan was my school.
Y.- In those situations, even alone on a wall, have you ever questioned why you do this?
C.B.- Yes, but not for a long time. It’s like asking why someone likes orange—just because. The point is, I’m very happy.
Y.- What does it take to organise such a major expedition?
C.B.- Money. If you have it, great—otherwise, you rely on sponsors, like me. You also need people; some go solo, but I prefer teammates. Logistics vary too. El Capitan is minimal, but Pakistan or Greenland require piles of paperwork.
There’s gear, food, travel... Luckily, I have sponsors.
Y.- In 2003, you climbed the world’s largest cliff in Greenland. What did that feel like?
C.B.- Mostly awe. We kayaked for 3 days to get there—surrounded by fjords, seals, whales, icebergs... incredible.
The scale is massive. You feel remote, free, almost like an explorer—no one’s been there. After the effort and cost... it’s a gift.
It’s pure, wild nature. Being there makes you reflect on life’s meaning, our daily routines. The simplicity—just climbing, eating, sleeping—makes you appreciate comforts more.
It also puts life in perspective. You’re not facing death, but you depend on yourself, which teaches you to downplay daily problems.
Y.- When weather forces you to cancel mid-expedition, what goes through your mind?
C.B.- Frustration. We accept it—certain conditions are needed, especially for ice. Failing due to external factors isn’t the same as fear.
When it works out, you feel lucky too. Tough conditions make success sweeter.
Y.- You’ve been to Patagonia, Pakistan’s glaciers, India, Greenland, the Karakorum... Which stands out?
C.B.- It’s hard (laughs). Many places were special—El Capitan, my school; El Gigante in Mexico, my first real wall in ’98, a turning point.
Recently, ice climbing has hooked me. Progress was slow, but now I tackle routes I once couldn’t imagine.
Y.- For newcomers, what training is needed?
C.B.- It varies—like athletics, climbing has many disciplines, from bouldering (5m max) to big walls or ice.
For climbing, just climb—that’s key. Strength helps, but mindset matters more: adapting to unnatural situations. Indoor walls are great for technique, but real terrain conquers fear.
Y.- An injury sidelined you for a year. What was harder: the injury or not climbing?
C.B.- Not climbing, definitely. The first months were tough, but you adjust.
Y.- Have you ever felt like giving up?
C.B.- Yes. Once in Pakistan, everything went wrong: lost gear, a mosque attack, curfews, wrong base camp... We were demoralised, exhausted, short on time.
I lost motivation, thought nothing could go worse... I just wanted home. Thankfully, it’s rare.
Y.- Do you do other adventure sports?
C.B.- Skiing (touring/piste) for ice approaches. I’ve done canyoning but now just as a hobby. A bit of cycling too.
Climbing fills my life—I’m always learning, switching styles: sport, big-wall, equipped, unequipped...
Y.- Months ago, you and Italy’s Anna Torretta climbed La Gioconda in Chile at 4,000m. At this stage, do you prefer rock or ice?
C.B.- In winter, ice—if there’s good rock and ice, I choose ice (laughs). It depends, but I love ice!
Y.- What’s it like on a glacier?
C.B.- Ice is surreal, ephemeral—it’s there, then gone. Climbing it feels like floating; behind you is just air, water far below.
Once you get the hang of it, it’s incredibly rewarding.
It’s unnatural—you need crampons and axes—but beautiful, clean. Progressing slowly makes it even sweeter.
Y.- Will you keep climbing "until your body gives out"?
C.B.- Yes... and until sponsors do too (laughs). Unlike competitive sports, mountaineering can span decades—it’s about preparation, logistics. Physicality matters, but less so. Unless injured, that’s the plan.
Fifteen years ago, I didn’t know I’d be doing this—you never know.
Y.- You collaborated with Al Filo de lo Imposible. How was that?
C.B.- Brilliant. Working with Carmen Portilla and the team was a pleasure—true professionals.
Y.- What about the Spanish Women’s Mountaineering Team (FEDME)?
C.B.- Great. Sharing knowledge, climbing with motivated women—it’s always positive.
